Getting to Know You
by thegirlwhoflies
Summary: Seriously it wasn't like she could just say, "Hey Mione, that's the guy who took the memory charm for you. Only you were crazy enough to shield him from it. It went through both your hearts. He's done bad things so they locked away his magic. Sealed it. He's living as a muggle now. Oh and if you haven't guessed yet, you're in love with each other but you're too scared to admit it!"
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

This is a Dramione fic with so much randomness. You've been warned.

 **~:GETTING TO KNOW YOU**

PROLOGUE

She didn't know why he brought her here. She suspects it's a different person who's been drinking polyjuice potion. It's the only plausible explanation. The place is a bit too eccentric for his taste, if it really is him. The classy display of books arranged per genre in the dragon bookshelf drew her attention she'll give him that. She would suspect it's the dragon. He has always been fascinated with the creature since she first met him when they were seven. She'd think that, except he's filthy rich and he could easily buy the shelf or the entire cafe if it amuses him or he could just have one made for himself. But he just had to set a meeting with her and ask her to meet him in this bizarre place that resembles anything but their side, well, her side. The wall is dim yellow, and the curtains too bright and too red with constellation embroidery. The tables, while normal and circular like what they have in other muggle restaurant she's been if only for the reason that no one would expect followers of the Dark Lord to go in such filthy places, are covered in pink linen. She worries rainbow unicorns will come out from nowhere. Perhaps they will fly out from under the table or the frames with muggle sayings hanging by the wall. For all she know it's a wizarding restaurant disguised to be a muggle to trap her after all. But no. He wouldn't do that to her, would he? Not even if he switched sides. He wouldn't betray a friend, wouldn't do that to her.

"Pansy." he greeted, having spotted her. She watched as he politely declined the coat attendant's help, smiling and waving like she didn't just doubt him and his intentions. But inside, she couldn't help but feel relief. It really is him. Only he would have that aristocracy that reached the other side of the room upon his entrance. Only he would have that superior smirk, that captivating charm that's both intimidating and yet renders the onlookers incapable of looking away. He truly is just that beautiful.

She kept her smile, leaning back to show herself relaxed as she waited for him to take the seat across her in the spot he intended where they can talk without being watched.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I got caught up in-" He sighed, and she got to see how tired he was. Beautiful, but tired and too worn out for a man. She bit her lip. He's just of the same age as her. But clearly he's been carrying so much weight on his shoulders that made him grow up into a man when in truth he should have been given much time to enjoy being a boy.

"You know what I've been up to." he continued. She nodded, not realizing her expression changed into one he knew too well.

"Yeah, too busy helping _their_ side." she couldn't help but say the second to the last word with venomous loathing.

"Pansy-" he said, taking her hand, his tone warning but his eyes apologetic. And for a while, her heart calmed down. She was reminded of the many years they spent together, fighting for the same thing. She was reminded how he was the only one who could ever truly make her feel the way he's making her feel right now. But she shrugged it off before it makes her think too much.

She drew back her hand, keeping enough distance to show him that she cannot be swayed as easily as before. Not when he made the choice that took him away from her.

"Why am I here Draco?" she demanded to know. Inside she fears he knew her well enough to tell she's fighting so hard to make a stand.

And when his eyes softened and he too made himself comfortable in his chair, she almost cursed aloud.

"I need your help." he said.

She scoffed. That's a first. "And why would you need the help of an enemy? You made your choice Draco. You chose to leave us."

"If you're my enemy we both know you wouldn't be here." was his calm reply.

He's right, but she's not done yet.

"For all you know, I could have ordered death eaters to surround this place at this very instant. They could be waiting to kill you right on spot for betraying the Dark Lord the moment you step out of this shop." She said, her words biting. She watched him shake his head, and she hated how he made her feel like she's being ridiculous. Didn't he forget that he threw their friendship away by siding with their enemies?

"Fine then. If you're too keen on playing the enemy, do it yourself. In fact, why not do it here? Right now. Use the cruciatus, or no, for it to be more dramatic, just go ahead and use the killing curse on me. Do it. No one knows I'm here so they wouldn't know it even if you kill me. I promise I won't fight back." His response came without pause. No time for hesitation that she had the audacity to believe he meant every word. It was the same tone he used to taunt Potter and his friends, when he knew they were too "good" to take his taunting. And just like that time, he's right.

"What's stopping you?" he dared, causing her to shriek when he pulled out her other hand from under the table and held it so her wand was pointing directly at his heart. "I know you brought your wand. Do it. Kill me now. Or are you too afraid to kill me? The Dark Lord will reward you if you do. We both know he wants my head on a silver platter. Do it Pansy. You've been raised better than that."

She wanted to hate him. She really did.

But his words drew the last straw and she combusted to tears, her wand falling off the floor as she took away her resolve, left her side of the table and threw herself at him for a much needed hug.

"Draco…" she sobbed, no longer fighting the tears as she knew it was futile. Not in front of him. Not when he's enveloping her in his strong masculine arms like he used to every time she wanted to run away from home. Not when she's engulfed in the smell of wild grass and rare citrus mint she loved so much. He was her confidante. That one person she trusts who knew her strengths and weaknesses, and merlin, does her heart swell so much for feeling too many things at once. Anger. Bitterness. Resentment. Hate...and finally that one thing she fought so hard to hide uttered in three simple words.

"I miss you."

He could have pushed her away, but he didn't. Instead he held her all the while she cried her heart out. Maybe she wasn't just crying for her. Maybe she was crying for him too.

"I know Pans, I know." he said.

She took her time calming down. He didn't say anything more, just kept silent as he comforted her. And when her crying finally stopped, she decided it best to ignore every fiber of embarrassment for having a weak moment and focus instead on the real reason she was here. She knew she wasted enough of his time as it was. But knowing him, he'd never tell her that. He was too much of a gentleman. Cold. But that's just the way he was raised to become. To her, he would always be the boy who she found crying alone in their mansion's garden. The boy who just like her, only ever wanted to make his parents proud, which was why he was cold to almost everyone. Because Lucius reminded him everyday that emotions are for the weak, and Malfoys are not weak. But as she look at him now, with her eyes puffed from crying and heart that just received the much needed cure, she realized that from that boy he grew up to be a man stronger than Lucius Malfoy could ever dream to become. Her friend grew up to be a man capable of making his own choices even if it means leaving his whole life behind. And she could only ever hope he wouldn't regret making that choice.

"Now that that's over, let's talk business shall we? Why did you really ask me to meet you here? It's too-" she asked, digging her brain for a word, making sure that she speaks with the the usual confident _I-know-I'm-beautiful-and-rich -tone_ that shows off her personality. The real Pansy Parkinson. "-too…"

"Too what Pans?" He encouraged, eyes daring her mischievously, her weak moment easily forgotten.

"Well it's like the place vomits rainbows and butterflies. It's giving me goosebumps. It's so not you." she teased, laughing.

She sure didn't expect he return it with a laugh of his own. It was a hollow chuckle but it was enough for her to conclude he made the right choice. The Draco Malfoy she knew doesn't laugh, not for a really long time now. Not like this. And she too couldn't help but laugh. It's been so long since she heard his laugh. She realized she'd rather have this...the old him, the old them back even if just for a while.

"No it isn't. When I first came here, I had the same reaction. Almost apparated myself out." he said, his eyes bright like he was relieving a good memory, a memory she'd pay galleons just to see.

"Then why come here? Don't tell me it's Dumbledore?" she urged. "Now that I think about it, I wouldn't put it past the old man to do something like that."

He shook his head. "Hermione."

"Hermi- Granger!?" She asked, eyes bulging. It was absurd. Very much so. Why would Granger of all people bring him to-, they weren't even friends, or are they?

She didn't get to voice any of these thoughts as Draco continued his story.

"She reckoned it will help bring out the inner goodness in me. Told her she's crazy of course, but she only laughed and said I'll just have to see it for myself. Said that if it's not the right people that would do the trick then perhaps it's the right atmosphere. Imagine me shivering the moment I stepped in. I've never felt so out of place in my whole life."

"So what, you're friends now?" she asked. If he noticed the jealousy in her tone, he didn't say. Instead she watched him look lost for a couple of seconds, as if she just asked a very difficult question.

"I- I don't- …" He began, taking his time before giving a reluctant answer that took away the brightness in his eyes. "No? Maybe...yes."

With her silence, he continued.

"That witch, she thinks she's bright, and merlin forbid I know she is but this time she's making the stupidest decisions."

He looked so conflicted, she would have found it amusing in normal circumstances. But their circumstances were anything but normal. He was being so adorable talking about a witch they used to mock together and she doesn't know what to feel about that.

"What did the mudblood do Draco?" she said, still unsure but dreading the path he was threading. His glare only reminded her that things really are different now. Now he's fighting with them.

"Sorry." She said apologetically, not really intending to offend him, but bounced back to defend her actions. "You should know old habits die hard. And it's not like we're friends - she and I. You should understand that to me, she still is the enemy."

He was silent. She watched as his brows knitted together and she knew she'd made a point. It doesn't mean he thought it's a good point, but he thought it valid. Grey eyes softened for a brief second and he let out a wistful smile. It was odd, and yet welcome, how he had been giving away smiles. He almost seemed like a different person.

"I know Pans." he said. "I do wish things could be different though."

Perhaps it was his voice. How tired he sounded. Perhaps it was the way he said her name that made her feel feel very scared but unable to not listen to what he has to say.

"Granger - she's…" he shook his head and sighed exasperatedly. Merlin what did the mud-, what did Granger do this time to cause him to be so troubled?

It was then that she noticed he hadn't ordered, and that his left shoulder was a little bit slumped. Only when she followed his eyes that suddenly weren't so guarded that she saw it, the stain of blood hiding in the darkness of his coat.

"Draco, what happened?!" she shouted with worry.

"I- " he paused, trying to think of a better word. "Let's just say I had a bad day. It's old news now."

"Did she? Did she do this?" Pansy asked, unable to stop her voice from screeching with horror.

The blonde looked at her incredulously and denied, looking mortified and then laughed. The wizard had the nerve to laugh. "What, no! No of course not. She, she wouldn't."

She pinched her nose, sighing for the absurdity of it all. She felt stupid for having assumed that. But she didn't know her. She did, but not the way he does. She's not the one fighting on her side.

"Then do tell me what happened already if you don't want me to make assumptions!" She demanded.

"She saved me."

"What!?" It was her turn to sound incredulous.

"Merlin she's crazy, but that insufferable witch saved me when even I know I don't deserve it. She kept saying she did it because I saved her, but that just happened once and yet it's the second time she risked her life to save mine. She could have left me to die, but she took the curse that was intended for me without hesitation and without regards for her own life."

Her throat felt dry, so dry that the next words were hard to form.

"I-..." he began, only to train off once again. He's changed. The Draco Malfoy she knew wouldn't come to a meeting unprepared. But this Draco, while he seemed dare she say happier, this Draco is unsure and by figuring out how to say the words, she can only think he's struggling with confusion inside. So she willed herself to listen, no matter how much what he's going to say could affect her.

"I know the risks are too high and it might happen again. And I- …. What I'm saying is that...is that, oh bugger!" He cursed, leaning forward to make sure she's staring directly in his eyes. "When it comes down to it, I need you to make sure Hermione lives. I know Blaise will back you up so you wouldn't have much problem on that."

 _Because I know the risks are too high..._ she stared at him, mouth agape. Did he really just say what she heard? Had she heard wrong? But it was his voice. It was his mouth that said... _I need you to make sure Hermione lives...Hermione lives_

It didn't take long for her to recover and she readily asked the nauseating question that's in the back of her throat the first time he said her name.

"What is she to you Draco? Why ask me to save her life when I don't even care the least bit about her and her bloody kind?! She's my enemy for merlin's sake and yet you're askin me to-... Do you even know what you're asking?" she trailed, taking a much needed breathe. Her heart felt like it might explode. No preparation in the world could prepare her for such vulnerability coming from him, and all these for a mudblood. "This is a war. People get killed. People fight to live. And yet you…for her..."

Heavy silence filled the room enough that she felt a crack inside of her.

"I-..."

"Are you in love with her?" she dared ask and hoped he would deny.

More silence...unending silence...silence so loud it's deafening.

Finally when she couldn't take it anymore, he spoke.

"I care about her. She deserves to live. Not me. I- I've done so much. I've done bad things, evil things. I've killed people. I've watched and laughed as people get tortured."

"But you're on their side now!" She was surprised that the words came out as a plea. Surprised that now she's suddenly begging for him to see that his life was worth it, worth more than hers or anyone's. "Surely that means something to you. You've sacrificed far more than anyone I've known and I know a lot. Not one of us purebloods have your courage. Don't you think she saw that and that's why she deemed your life worth saving? Draco for Merlin's sake, don't sell yourself short like that."

She was willing to say more. Willing to beg. Because she knew and he knew that whatever he asks, she'll do. Which is probably why he came to her. Which was why he didn't ask him to come with her when he made that bloody choice to leave everything behind to side with the Boy Who Lived.

"This isn't about me Pans." His voice was pained.

He was in pain. And she can see it. But as much as she'd like to take his pain away, she couldn't deny she was rubbing salt in her own wounded heart by making him talk.

"I'm asking you the last request I'll ever make of you."

This time she was sure it was his chosen words. The finality to it that he didn't bother to hide. It was as if he was sure it would come down to it. It was his plea. Draco Malfoy doesn't plead. He orders. He doesn't show his fear, not even in the face of death, but it was evident that this time, unmasked, he's asking her to make sure Hermione Granger lives, without regard for his own life. She cringed at the sound of her own heart breaking. She would never approve of this. Never in eternity. But it was his request, and just like always, when had she ever say no to him?

With a heavy heart, she sealed her fate. It earned her a smile that finally reached his eyes, and she asked herself if it was enough. If his satisfaction was enough for her to live without him.

"That's all I need." He said with relief, enveloping her in a tight grateful hug for the last time. "Thank you Pansy."

She wanted to scream that Draco Malfoy doesn't say thanks. And yet he did. For a muggle no less. For this girl who he claimed to have saved his life, he just asked her to hurt him. She wasn't stupid. She knew that he asked because if it comes down to it, he wouldn't hurt her and so instead, he's asking that she does. And merlin is this how an unforgivable curse feels like?

"Draco…" she called just when he was about to leave. "Why me?"

He just stared at her, and for a while she thought she would watch him leave without getting a response. But then he spoke. "Because believe it or not Pans, I never saw you as the enemy. That, and you've never once broken a promise you made to me. I'm not asking you to risk your life for hers. I'm just asking that if it comes down to it, kill me and not her."

His voice was raw. His eyes genuinely thankful before he walked away.

That was when she noticed one of the encryptions in the painting hanging by the wall right above him. _"Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, but falling in love with you was beyond my control."_ it said.

And as she watched him leave her without looking back, Pansy Parkinson could only think that perhaps muggles aren't as foolish as they've been raised to believe.


	2. Chapter 1: A Future Without You

Disclaimer: I honestly don't own Harry Potter.

 **The author would like to thank** : AutumnRose12452, Cray Queen of Angst, Luiz4200, SlytherinSmut, mesa24, snlemonpie, suspicion93, zsora for the favs/alerts and most specially, carey905 for the review. Thanks guys! Seriously, you're awesome!

 **Guide to Reading Getting to Know You:**

 _Italics represents events from the past._

Normal represents events in the present.

Chapter One

 **A Future Without You**

 _There was a void he was trying to fill for as long as he learned how to stand in his own two feet. He had long realized that with great wealth comes great responsibilities, and being part of one of the most powerful families in the wizarding world means that he had to act differently than everybody else._

 _Given time, it became easy. He hates because it's the right thing to do. He taunts and makes others feel low and miserable because they are supposed to be beneath him, beneath the ground he walks on. He had to. Conscience be damned. Doubts ignored. If there's anything, any feeling or thought that could possibly deter him from being the pureblood monarch that he is, he would lock them down in a cage in the deepest, darkest corner of his mind. A cage so high and so thick with no doors nor windows._

 _Malfoys don't show mercy. He is a Malfoy. Slytherins couldn't show love. He is their prince. Death eaters who serve the Dark Lord despises mudbloods. They kill them. And though that was the one thing that somehow managed to create a crack in his stone hard resolve, he did it. He had killed Dumbledore who had been their headmaster in school, a man who had done nothing bad to him except show favor on his arch nemesis Harry Potter._

 _He can do it again. He was prepared. He was ready. He only had to clutch his hold on his wand so firmly to stop it from shaking._

 _The door creaked open and two of their peers who he knew to be Scabior and Travers, came in, dragging a chained whimpering muggleborn. They shoved her forcefully until she fell to her knees on the floor._

 _Scabior didn't waste time and took off the sack covering her head. Gasps and sneers were heard._

 _But Draco stood frozen, unable to sneer, unable to breathe, feeling absolute horror at the realization that he was just about to kill Hermione Granger._

 _Voices loathing and mocking filled the room and he watches the girl fight back the tears and cover them with glares. But she doesn't have her wand with her and her hands were tied behind her back._

" _If it isn't the brightest witch of her age. Pity you're a mudblood." Lestrange scowled._

" _Kill her." Bellatrix growled._

" _About time you get what you deserve huh mudblood!" said another._

" _Kill the mudblood Draco." This one he recognized to be his father's voice._

 _Draco felt his body stiff, but raised his wand nevertheless. He can do this. He will do this. He would just not look at her. He didn't, and that's when he spotted her wand._

" _Expelliarmus!" He shouted, catching the wand and secretly enjoying the look on Scabior's face._

" _What the heck Malfoy!" the elder man roared ready to pounce. But he beat him to it, making sure to sound smug and confident._

" _Why, wouldn't you alI like to see the look on the mudblood's face as I kill her with her own wand?" He said, keeping his own wand in his wand holster and readying to use hers._

 _He didn't fail to see the look on her face when she realized who he was, but he refused to acknowledge it. She's Granger. He must kill her. That's all he has to do and all of this would be over._

 _Ignoring all eyes watching, he walked painfully slowly to her, making sure to stare in her eyes. He wasn't surprised she was staring at him head on, still carrying her Gryffindor pride even in the face of death._

 _Finally standing right in front of her, he grasped her chin making her wince in pain, and he pointed her wand straight on her chest right on the spot that hides her heart._

" _Prepare yourself Granger." He ordered, the spell right on the tip of his tongue._

 _Together, they vanished._

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Pansy Parkinson totally stands out in her red cocktail dress in the plain white walls of St. Mungo's. She was readying to meet a fashion stylist from Milan when she received the alarming call from Blaise that sent her here without even bothering to change.

His tone was in panic, and Blaize Zabini was the most composed person she knows. Even in the war, the Italian had only ever been frantic in the gravest of situations. So, she knows that to have him in distress means terrible news.

She was just about to start hyperventilating when she spotted him, sitting in one of those hospital benches.

"What happened Blaise!? How is he?" Pansy asked worriedly, shoulders slumping in regret at the show of sadness in his friend's face.

Blaise didn't even bother to look at her, his pale blue eyes looking tired as he stared on the white wall ahead of them.

"It's been six months, and yet he hasn't shown any sign of waking up." Blaise said, and she noted his tone switching to restrained fury as he continued. "The healers had the nerve to suggest we give up on them. You know, take the easy way out. Let go. Those bloody uncaring fools! I could tell they just want to make their jobs easy, but one look from Potter and that put them in place. I never thought I'd ever feel grateful for scarhead, but I don't care whatever power he uses if it means they won't give up saving Granger. Because that means they can't let Draco die either."

The witch nodded her head understandingly. She reminded her heart to stay calm. If this isn't about him, then the bad news must be about her. Feeling unprepared for whatever he's going to say but knowing there's no other choice, she asked. She'll have to know anyway. It's useless to prolong the agony. It will only kill her more.

"What of her?"

His voice was grim. "She's fighting for her life."

"What?" she gasped, tears already starting to fall. The Italian's face betrayed no emotion except tiredness but his voice was evidently failing him.

"The healers...they are trying to breathe her back to life. You know what this means for him, don't you? If she dies, then he'll…" he trailed, sighing at the absurdity of it all. They were only teen-agers for Merlin's sake. This isn't some kind of muggle novels he caught Draco reading just to try to understand Hermione. This is real life. And Salazar it sucks.

"This is stupid. Those two are bloody idiots!" she cried exasperatedly. "Why couldn't they just have admitted they love each other instead of alternately trying to die saving each other's lives? This isn't a bloody romance novel! It isn't funny to make us worry this much."

She let herself be pulled to his embrace as she cried. She hates how crying had somehow become a constant part of her everyday life. But there's no other choice. It's the consequence of being alive and healthy, while your friends lays in bed in coma.

"Blaise, tell me the truth. Do you really think he'll wake up?" her voice was hopeful, desperate even. But Blaise was no liar.

"I don't know Pansy. I honestly don't know."

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" _Why would you trust me?" His voice was raw, and she had to know that this was the most vulnerable she'd seen him._

 _The witch stifled her own sob, feeling the pain in her heart for the boy who was standing in front of her._

" _Because you took a chance on me first. And I want to take a chance on you too." came her sincere reply._

" _I'm a death eater." He stated like he was telling her the sky is blue._

 _She flinched, but didn't let his words stop her, making sure to point out his present and not his past._

" _I know. But you're not. Not anymore."_

" _I killed Dumbledore."_

 _She gulped. She honestly thought that it would feel like betraying her own morals, betraying the feel of loathing and hatred she once felt when she learned that he killed their headmaster. It almost came out like a bitter cry when she realized that despite the hurt, and all the pain, even the so called brightest witch of their age couldn't possibly comprehend the weight of being in this boy's shoes when he was made to do it. How scared he must have felt. How shaken, how hard it was to abandon his own conscience in fear for his life. She certainly doesn't understand how it was that she understands, but she does. The thoughts she tried so hard to ignore to hate him, suddenly they were all she could use to define him._

 _She blames it on the rain, how she wasn't surprised at the sound of her own voice sounding almost as broken as his. Unsurprised that she had to stifle a sob. "You had to do it. Dumbledore wouldn't have you do it any other way."_

 _He scoffed, looking very much tired and loathing. But she knew it wasn't her he loathes. It was himself. Oh how foolish she was for not having been able to see it all these time. That this is why he saved her. This is why he always says the right words to anger Harry and Ron and the rest of Order, and even her. This is why he doesn't fight back when they act on their rage. This is why he never leaves a battle unscathed. This man, who suddenly looks beautiful in her eyes, was broken for the world to see. This man believes that he deserves everything hurtful they could throw at him whether it be physically or emotionally because he feels sorry, and so he's trying to atone for his sins by hurting himself, it was heartbreaking._

" _I almost killed you." he all but spit the words with disgust._

 _He was too busy mentally cursing himself for all the things he's done that he fails to notice her leaving the spot where she stood and ungracefully take deliberate steps towards him, her pace quickening with each and every step she took. Only when she was a centimeter away that he could hear her breathing did he look up, and was shocked to see her eyes red with fresh tears._

 _He was tired. He was too tired at everything and everyone. He was too tired of all the decisions that led him to this and thinking how he would do things differently if only he knows how. Too tired that it's too late now and there's nothing to do but regret, and live the rest of his life with this weight in his heart brought upon by all the wrong things he's done because he was scared. And so he stood, letting her see just how low he's fallen._

 _But she wasn't like him. She has light. And she's very determined to give him some if only he wouldn't have that lost look in his ash colored grief stricken eyes._

" _I forgive you." she said, lifting her hand and boldly caressing his right cheek, making sure he stares in her eyes and see that she means it. "Draco, I forgive you. So please, forgive yourself too."_

 _And that was it. She was pulled into his chest and his arms cradled her so tight she felt like a stress ball. But she didn't complain, because finally, finally he was letting everything out. He was finally letting another person in._

 _She allowed herself to sigh in relief, allowed herself to lean into him suddenly feeling worn out herself._

 _A smile crept on her face as she hugged him back, with no idea what paths this setting free would open for the two of them, no idea that she had just freed him of the windowless cage he has created for himself and that she had helped him make the choice to take that freedom. She only knows that if anyone were to see them, their eyes would probably pop so wide they would burst in disbelief. A pureblood wizard and a muggle born witch, standing in the middle of nowhere, seeking comfort and letting their remorse fall on each other's shoulders. Who would have thought? But this is what they've been fighting for. This is why they couldn't give up._

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Ron Weasley sat quietly, waiting in bated breath as the healers ran in and out of their friend's room. He was agitated alright, but in front of him Harry Potter was pacing back and forth restlessly and he feels he needs to be the calm one, or at least act like it. For there was no way he was feeling calm.

They didn't keep waiting for six months only to have her heart stop beating all of a sudden. Merlin, they've managed to destroy the horcruxes and kill Voldemort. Surely whoever is up there wouldn't be cruel enough as to take her life away? Not Hermione Granger. Not their best friend.

"Calm down Harry." he heard his little sister's voice. He remembered her talking about having a championship match with surprisingly enough, Tutshill Tornadoes, and he appreciates how she gave that up to be with them here, waiting for her heart to start pumping again.

Unfortunately, her soft voice didn't help and only aggravated the Boy-Who-Lived, now more known as the 'Savior' of the wizarding world for having defeated the Dark Lord.

Ginny recoiled as Harry released an agonizing scream before heading straight to punch the white wall of St. Mungos. There were healers who cringed at his action. He suspects the only thing stopping them from calling security to take his friend to leave was who he was. What was having to repair a broken wall compared to not having to live in fear of seeing the dark mark?

It was just so frustrating how this had to be the price they have to pay for having won the blasted war. Bloody hell they should be celebrating their victory. She should be awake. She should be with them, bugging them with her campaigns fighting for elf rights. They would laugh at her but support her nonetheless. She should be attending balls with them, telling them off for having mispronounced a spell or not remembering a spell they've been taught in Hogwarts. Heck he would even pretend he's happy when Malfoy finally find the nerve to confess to her! She should be up her feet, standing, sitting, laughing, anything but this! Anything but struggling to live!

Merlin, they didn't even know what happened to them. There was only one witness and he was currently rotting in Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy, despite his sentence, had managed to screw them all over again with his silence. The man had the audacity to obliviate himself right before the aurors got to him. Ron wanted to kill the man, and then resurrect him to kill him again, and then do it all over again. But what's done is done. And they are now left with no choice but to hope that they would wake up. And then they could tell them what happened. But first they had to wake up. Good heavens, please, anybody, let them live. He'll even be polite to Malfoy. Just please, the redhead silently pleaded, whoever can, please let his friends live.

* * *

A/N: Wooooooooh. (sigh) Finally. It's done.

So what do you think? If you're excited and can't wait for the next chapter, do encourage me with reviews. God bless & thanks for reading!

Pray & praise.

~D.


	3. Chapter 2: Alternate Reality 3 Yrs Later

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

 _There are so many different versions of reality just as there are uncountable books about the same topic around the world, each containing different information, there's just no way of saying which ones were true. Who knows maybe we've met and I've loved you in one of them? But in this version, all I want is a chance to get to know you, and if you'll let me, introduce myself to you._

 _ **~3 YEARS LATER~**_

Chapter Two

 **Alternate Reality**

The place was a small muggle cafeteria in Venice, Italy. Nothing special or even remotely remarkable about it, it even has no name. Very rarely, the golden bell hanging by the front door would chime and a few muggle customers would come in. They would stay and order slice of cakes and cups of hot beverages, sometimes a sandwich, but they could never be too comfy as to stay for more than an hour. A fact of which she considered a pro on her list as to why she loves the place.

Helen, the owner, was a muggle widow in her late fifties, who was more than happy to save a table for her everytime she visits. She even gets out of her way of putting a 'Reserved' label in her favorite spot at the far corner by the wall, a spot that keeps her out of public eye but allows her to observe and be alert on other cusomers' business.

Hermione smiled, politely thanking the widow who had somehow managed to make her feel what even her friends failed to do as she placed a slice of lime cake on her table. She was at home here, in this isolated house turned cafe with nothing but ten tables with two to four chairs each, pink curtains and a cake display cabinet beside the counter hiding an old overused refrigerator and a rusty oven.

In truth, Helen had admitted in a previous conversation that she found her company more than welcome, and that she could be like the daughter she and Greg always dreamed of having, a wish never granted and even made impossible when Greg joined the war and never returned. It was his death that made Helen decide to manage the cafeteria if only to keep herself busy.

Hermione thinks it's this that makes her feel at home. In a way, there's the sense of kinship for understanding how it feels to wish strongly for something and end up having to accept that they can never have it.

She grimaced, poking at her food, already feeling heavier as she reminded herself of the fact that her parents albeit alive would never look at her with those adoring eyes. They would never welcome her with open arms and call her daughter. She would never even hear them call her by the name they had given her with the sense of familiriaty only family possess, only the sense of greeting one would give a complete stranger. And her parents, while being known for friendliness and warmth, would simply never recognize their own blood even if she were to stand and introduce herself to them. It hurts to think that they've replaced her, even harder because there's no one to blame but her. She can only think they felt the same void she's feeling, and in order to ease the pain, they've agreed on adopting a girl of her age as their daughter.

Helen, having sensed her solitude the way only concerned widows can, gave her a questioning look. Hermione returned this with a nod and a smile, deciding it just wouldn't do if all she'll do is think of reasons to feel sad. It's an endless list, and she really could do better than mope. For instance, there's the unfinished book on her table about star crossed lovers in fair Verona, in addition to the half finished letter she intended to send one Harry Potter.

The bell chimed, and she allowed herself a few more seconds of laziness watching the pair of Russian girls let themselves out of the cafe, squealing as the cool wind and rain greeted them. One would think that they would be smart enough to listen to weather forecasts, but no. Some people just don't bother and would rather be surprised to find a storm outside their door.

Returning to her book, she failed to see Helen greet then pause in awe before catching herself staring and offering to take the coat of a newly arrived customer.

"Table for one please." said the husky voice of a man.

If she looked, she would have seen Helen regard the man with appraisal, look at her and then back at the stranger with scheming eyes before she accompanied him to the table beside hers.

She did however hear her suggest that he orders the same lime cake she was having and a cup of hot chamomile or earl grey tea if he prefers, to which the man politely agreed to.

If she looked, she would have seen Helen fidgeting with unhidden excitement as she readied the man's order from the counter. She was too engrossed in the story of woe, despite having read it for no less than fourteen times. In fact, if it weren't for her intent focus on Romeo's reaction to his best friend Mercutio's death, she would have realized that her elbow was nearing to push the pen on her right off of the table. Fortunately, she did feel her skin touch the plastic, alerting her senses albeit not giving her enough reaction time to prevent the fall.

It was only a natural reaction for the part of her fellow customer to offer his quick reflexes and catch the pen for her before it hits the tiled floor.

Hermione was ready to murmur a soft thank you to the owner of the hand holding her pen, when she happened to lock eyes with him.

"It happens every time." came the man's words as he himself offered her a friendly smile.

His voice somehow managed to help her find hers, and she managed to thank him, offering a smile of her own before taking her pen, an action that for some reason, alerted her with a jolt of electricity when their fingers accidentally touched.

What it meant, she wouldn't have time to ponder, as the handsome platinum blonde pale stranger with mercurial eyes decided to start a conversation with her.

"A friend suggested this place actually. He said it's a good place to read if I want to avoid the crowd." He said conversationally.

It was then that she noticed the book he was holding. 'Hamlet,' it said. She didn't fail to observe the confident aura that he gives, also noticing that his choice of white polo shirt and black jeans made him all the more good in the eyes. It's curious that her mind was greeting her with a sense of deja vu she couldn't quite place.

"I see I'm not the only one who thinks so too." he finished, obviously waiting for a response from her.

Clearing her throat, she spotted Helen approaching them with a smile and decided it best to wait for her to give him his order before she give him her reply.

"I see you've finished your cake. Would you like another serving Hermione dear?" Helen offered, looking at her fondly, having finished serving the man.

"Yes please, I think I'll try the chocolate one this time and another cup of earl grey. Thank you Helen." She replied.

"Of course dear." The woman said, turning once again to the man. "And you Sir, can I offer you anything else?"

Hermione just chose not to read too much to the sudden giddiness her old friend radiates.

"No, this is fine. Thank you." came his husky voice, drawing her attention back to him.

Her friend nodded, before leaving them to tend to her order, and Hermione found herself still wondering why this beautiful stranger gives her a weird sense of familiriaty.

Ignoring the growing questions in her head, she settled on taking her turn on their delayed conversation.

"It's true. It helps that not many people knows this place." She said, merely watching as the stranger took a bite of his cake. She watched as he chewed, his eyes lighting up in what she can only label as satisfaction for having tasted something delicious.

"It's good, isn't it?" She couldn't help but ask, despite already knowing the answer.

He nodded, taking another slice.

"You know, I was meaning to ask, and I do hope you don't think it a ploy. It's just pure curiosity really. Have we met before?"

For a second, she knew she was gaping. His question justified her thoughts, though it brought out all the more questions. It was one of those times when even Hermione Granger doesn't really know how to answer. She feels like she knew him, but then she also know that she should just give up trying to remember. This after all wouldn't be the first time it happened. She'd forgotten a lot of things, people both important and unimportant to her included. So, she really should no longer be surprised if she already met this man before.

"Maybe. Sorry, I really couldn't remember."

She could feel his eyes on her as she kept silent. She could tell him about her amnesia, but then what good would it do? The man himself couldn't remember her.

She couldn't be more grateful when instead of leaving the conversation with a question mark hanging in the air, the man decided to divert the topic instead.

"Have you ever heard of alternate realities? It's like having different dimensions, each one having different versions of ourselves. Who knows, maybe I've met you in one of them? But of course, then it wouldn't really be me, more of another me meeting another you." He said, and she found that even his chuckles were astonishingly familiar. Perhaps he was right. She actually wishes he was right. That the reason for this sense of deja vu was just because somewhere in another dimension, another version of herself had already met and known another version of him. Maybe they were even friends in that dimension.

It was a nice thought indeed. A dimension where she wasn't a witch, there was no dark wizard, she didn't obliviate her own parents to keep them safe and she wasn't hit with the very same spell. A dimension when she didn't have to rely on Harry Potter's stories to know who she was and is and of the kind of life she's lived. It would be nice if he's right. A dimension where she's happy and feels complete.

But she knows enough about wishing, and about what kind of wounds it can cause a person. So instead, she asked him.

"Do you believe in that?"

It was a simple question, and she was glad he seemed more than willing to comply.

"Yes, I do. It's a nice thought, wouldn't you agree?"

And that was when she noticed the ring on his finger, an elegant silver ring with a sapphire stone attached to it. Beautiful, she thought feeling a wave of heaviness settle in her chest. Heartbreakingly beautiful.

She agrees, and told him so.

"So in this other dimension, what do you think is your story?"

She should have known that a question such as that would have to wait a few seconds to load. And she waited, realizing she's more than willing to wait to hear the story of the stranger whose eyes she couldn't help but feel reflects the own depth and sadness as her own.

The man sighed.

"Well if I'm gonna answer that, I believe introductions are in order." He said, offering his hand for her to shake, the unfathomable tension in her heart suddenly replaced by something lighter at his playful demeanor. "Hi, I'm Lucian. Lucian Zabini."

She took it, and tried to ignore yet another jolt of electricity at their joined hands, she could only wonder if he was feeling it too.

"Hermione Granger."

It was then when Helen chose to interrupt to serve her latest order. She thanked her, and once again, readied herself to listen.

Lucian Zabini, she learned, was a good conversationalist and knows how to keep her interested. She had deemed that a talent, seeing as even those few people she consider her friends could barely manage to keep her interested talking about topics of their choice. But then again, they were Harry Potter and Ron Weasley and more often than not, the thing they were most happy to talk about for a random lengthy discussion was quidditch.

She listened attentively as he talked about the things he believed his other version was doing.

"In another dimension, the other me is living in Paris. He's a wealthy bachelor who had traveled the world but simply couldn't be satisfied with any place no matter how beautiful, and so he keeps travelling, flying from one place to another, hoping to find that which could make him feel complete."

"And what is it he's looking for? Does he know?" She asked. He shrugged. It was weird but fascinating how she was having conversation with this person she just met who somehow makes her feel she knew him. And maybe she really did, and she'll just have to mention him to Harry.

Maybe it's because of the strange familiriaty. Or maybe because she wasn't really used to being stared at by a beautiful man who wasn't her friends. She found herself holding her breathe, as if he was a wizard and enchanted her with those mercurial eyes. She would have found it amusing, if not ironic, because she's the witch. But it was also that same spell that gives her a source of courage and made her bold in wanting to know more about the spell caster.

"He's looking for a book, and hopes that when he finds it, it could give him all the answers." He answered.

"Does he also go to places such as this? Does he also try out new stuff because his friend suggested it to him?" She asked again.

He regarded her for a while, offering her a smirk that sent something to her stomach.

"I would hope so. It would be a downer to think he's no fun. I like my own adventures." He said, drinking his tea. "And what about you? What do you think your other version is doing?"

For a moment, she honestly wanted to tell him everything. She could lie, or simply tell him the truth. But then she realized that perhaps she needs it. Besides, they were talking about what ifs in another dimension. And who knows, perhaps, perhaps it's a dimension with magic.

"In another dimension, I'm a witch." She began, and laughed when he almost choked on his drink. "What, you don't believe in magic?" She teased.

He instantly apologized, saying he was just surprised is all, and asked for her to continue. She could be a witch he said, and she, not knowing how to read the longing look in his eyes, continued.

"I went to a wizarding school. But then there was a brewing war, and me and my best friends had to skip school to fight it. It's for the greater good you see. Even in the world of magic, there is always the good and the bad. We fought. We won, but we had to pay the price. I casted a spell on my parents to keep them safe, a memory spell to be exact. What it did was lock away their memories of me. And call it karma or whatever, but I was hit by that same spell during the war. And now I have to rely on other people to remind me who Hermione Granger was and is."

She waited for him to speak, feeling very curious as to how much of her story he actually believes to be true. None of them, she supposes, because it wasn't believable, not for muggles like him. And what makes it all the sadder was how much she wanted to be a muggle right now so that none of it would be real.

"Damn, if I know you're that good a story teller, I would have changed my story." He cursed, and his defeated look was comical. She was just grateful he has this ability to make her see things lighter. She laughed.

"Well, you did say there are a lot of dimensions out there. Perhaps in one, you're a wizard." She encouraged, willing to give him a chance to redeem his story telling.

"Okay." He said, turning his body so he was fully facing her, at least as much as sitting beside her and not in front of her could let him.

"In another dimension, I'm a pureblood..." He paused purposely, she observed. She gasped, blinking once, twice, feeing stupid how she could have ignored the possibility that he was a wizard.

"Continue..." She said, stopping herself from cursing as he was sure the same comprehension dawned on him when he heard her story.

All sadness dissipated and all she wanted to do was wipe that smug smirk off of his face. What she thought was a pouring out of the heart session with a mysterious stranger has now turned into a battle of wits between two magical people.

But before he could continue, the bell chimed and two men in formal suites came in, heading straight to them.

"It's time." One of them, the bulkier one, said.

Beside her, her new acquaintance sighed, putting money on the table. 'Sorry Ms. Granger, I'm afraid I must go now. I have to say of all my dealings with strangers, you are by far the most interesting. I do hope to have the pleasure of conversing with you again.'

She could still feel anger emanating from her directed at the man, but a voice was telling her that if he was indeed a wizard, shouldn't he have recognized her as Harry Potter's best friend? She did give him her real name, and yet he didn't act like all others did. If anything, his look at having heard her wasn't excitement but longing. But longing for what? If he was a wizard...

She was rendered speechless once again as the man took it upon himself to take her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss.

"You have nothing to fear. I give you my word." He whispered.

He was nearing the door with the two men following close behind him like bodyguards, when she called.

"On Saturday." She said, not really needing to shout as it was a small cafe. "I'll be here on Saturday at this time. I'd like to hear more of your story if you'd let me."

What came after was he darting her a smile, a smile so different from his smirk, and yet it still sent that wave of familiarity to her.

"I assure you Ms. Granger, that the pleasure will be mine. I'll see you on Saturday." He said, leaving through the door as she stayed rooted on the spot. Hermione sighed, and just about fell to her seat, alerting Helen who was watching the exchange.

"Oh my! Hermione dear are you alright? You look pale child. What was that about? Do you know him?" Helen said, wiping her face with a readied wet towel.

Both were surprised when tears started forming in her eyes, and it felt like that something he sent to her stomach had turned into longing she couldn't pinpoint where from, the same longing she had seen in the stranger's eyes.

"I think I do."

* * *

A/N: This story has been bugging me for months and I strongly feel I have to write it before it drives me crazy. And while I admit I am writing for my own pleasure, I would be delighted to read your generous reviews. I do hope you'll find reading my piece worth your time.


	4. Chapter 3: An Unbreakable Vow

Disclaimer: I do not own HP.

This is a Dramione fic with so much randomness. You've been warned.

 _Author's Notes: Hi guys! Okay I know it's been so long but good news! Turns out I have the next chapters prepared and just didn't get the chance to post them after my laptop broke. I was looking for something else that I wrote before and surprisingly stumbled into my fanfics. So ta-da! Here they are now. I just hope you remember the story, or if you not, you can just reread ;) This is one that gets to my heart and apparently has quite a few followers. Enjoy!_

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Chapter Three

 **An Unbreakable Vow**

The light in her room was dim, just as he knew she would like. Stars hanging neatly organized in the background. It was a simple design. A bed in one side with a muggle painting hanging above it in vibrant colors of blue, green, orange and yellow. It was an abstract piece she saw in San Francisco while they were strolling. Harry Potter smiled at the memory. To its left was a desk full of pictures and a music box that he gave her on her last birthday. Beside it was a drawer of books, enchanted to display those that she'd like to read at the moment. It also keeps intruders off as she'd managed to spell it with a password. A flat screen television was hanged on the opposite wall. He had thought it nice as they were both raised by muggles and everyone needs a good show or two to relax every once in a while.

Her room was simple, but elegant and exquisitely beautiful. He thinks they were everything she stands for.

He remembered the day he first brought her here. She was surprised and thrilled, but unbelieving. She even went as far as telling him she couldn't, doesn't deserve all he's offering her. A house, no, a mansion would be more fitting. He contradicted her of course. She might not remember her past, but he knows. It was a past filled with so much loyalty and love and sacrifice she did because of their friendship. She might not know, but he believes had it not been for her and her intelligence, he would have died even before he came face to face with Voldemort.

This room that he had asked a magitect to design was nothing compared to what she'd given him.

He was standing beside her bed, right across the opened glass door that leads to her balcony. Outside was the glorious view of the vast sky. Below was the sandy beach with beautiful tall coconut trees, their very own paradise.

This was how their friend and best friend's sister Ginny Weasley found him. Lone and missing the witch who had inspired him to build this life of peace, away from the adoring crowd and ministry glory that his name offers. In this place, he could be Harry Potter the man, not Harry Potter the savior of the wizarding world.

He should have known that even in the paradise he has provided for her, she would long to create her own story, seek her own adventures of who she had been. He misses her of course, but he understands. His best friend needs to find herself, and so he let's her take her turn to visit every country the world has to offer.

Ginny took her time to step out of the fire place, merely observing him. Tired of seeing him sad and miserable, she approached him, every vein in her body willing to cheer her friend up.

"Harry Potter, stop being so gloomy! Merlin it doesn't become you." She encouraged with the confident humor covering frustration that only Ginny Weasley could possess.

She pulled on his sleeve, dragging him unceremoniously to leave his housemate's room.

"Ginny." He greeted, letting the small witch drag him along. It had become a routine. Hermione would stay for a few days, then leave. He had offered to accompany her of course. He had been there with her in her visit to the Western countries. But now she's on her voyage to the European boarders. Ginny would come every week to check on him, bringing him Molly's cooking and messages from the Weasleys of how they miss him and Hermione.

Years have passed since the war. And while their best friend Ron had grown fond of the attention at having taken a job at the Chuddley Canons, in addition to fighting alongside with Harry Potter in the war and being part of the Golden Trio, Ginny had taken a different path and gave up quidditch to be an auror. Sometimes he got to team up with her in missions. But most of the times, he was out on his own special business tracking down the remaining threats of the peace they've been living now.

"So, where'd she go this time?" Ginny asked, making herself comfortable in the couch and plopping her feet on the table. She accioed the magazine and started her usual habit of flipping pages randomly.

Harry Potter sat beside her, setting a glass of fire whiskey for her on the table, before taking a gulp of his own.

"Italy." He replied, pressing the remote and hoping to find a good muggle movie. It has become their past time every time she visits.

Ginny laughed, seeing her favorite Jackie Chan movie Rush Hour on screen.

"Hmm Italy, wonder what she's doing now." She commented nonchalantly, eyes on screen but watching her friend from the corner of her eyes. "You think we should surprise her? You know we could always visit her instead of you moping here all by yourself. I'm sure she'd like to have some company for a change."

Beside her, Harry sighed, finishing his glass and pouring it some more.

"We could, but I reckon she needs time alone. She needs her space and I really just want her happy. She deserves it, after everything." He said.

He kept watching the show, ignoring the knowing look the witch beside him was giving him.

"But you love her." She all but murmured in a tone soft and honest, but the truth it contains was defeated and turned the comfortable place to a rather hurtful silence.

Harry froze and kept silent, biding his time and hoping for all sakes that time would still and they would return to the moment when she hasn't said those words. It wasn't a secret, but it was never spoken nevertheless, until now.

Feeling her eyes and knowing that she wouldn't just let it go so easily, he decided he might as well talk when the subject of his affection wasn't around to hear what he has to say.

"You know it doesn't matter." He began, speaking quitely and hoping she would jus let it go. "She chose someone else."

The response he got was a groan. Ginny switched the television off as she turned to face him, looking determined for what he knows would be a long discussion. And Ginny Weasley from his experience was a force to be reckoned with when she has things to say.

He sighed, preparing himself for her speech which she was more than willing to give him.

"But it isn't fair! And besides, she **chose** him! Past tense. She isn't with him now. I think it's about time you tell her she means more to you than just your best friend. What is stopping you? You're Harry Potter for Merlin's sake!"

"Yeah, and she's Hermione Granger! She knew who and what I am before. She knows me more than anyone else can say, and yet before I get to tell her I fancy her, she told me she's sorry and hates herself for having to hurt me, but she loves him. Him! A death eater! I know he has changed but I didn't believe him. I didn't believe her. And what did he do next? He all but proved he's loyal by facing his own father defending her! He sacrificed everything for her! How can I fight with that? If she knows, who is to say she wouldn't want to find him? That she wouldn't choose him still!?"

"Harry, we don't even know if Draco's alive! And if he is, he doesn't remember her. I'm sure he would want to see her happy. He must want her happy, and I know he couldn't trust anyone else with her than you. You did the unbreakable vow with him for goodness sake!"

"But she doesn't know that! She doesn't even remember him. Merlin she knows I haven't told her everything but she trusts me enough to think it must be for her good. She could barely stand after learning she obliviated her parents. I couldn't possibly tell her she had a fiance who all but died fighting for her honor, but now it doesn't matter because they've both been obliviated and cursed, and there's a fair chance he didn't survive. I couldn't Ginny. This is all so unfair for her. I wish I could tell her. I want to. She deserves to know, but I also don't want to see her hurt and devastated."

"Then tell her!" She all but yelled so loudly, he could swear he hear a crack from the walls.

He stood up, feeling waves of magic threatening to engulf the whole place in their growing frustration.

"Didn't you just hear me? I can't. She'll just get hurt. I can't hurt her again!"

"Then I'll tell her. I'll tell her about Draco. About Lucius. About the curse. Merlin this is ridiculous! You're robbing both of you the chance to be happy. In all of us, it is you two who deserve to be happy. Hermione is strong Harry. She isn't the same girl you were in first year. She knows what were at stake and yet she battled with you. She chose you because she knew you needed her help. So yes she picked Draco but then it's all different now. It isn't your fault Zabini took him from the hospital to who knows where."

The witch looks hopeful. But he kept distant, speaking in a calm tone with words that were nothing calming.

"He could be alive." He said.

She scowled. "And that's the thing. He could be alive. He could have come for her. Zabini is everything Slytherin but he's loyal to Draco. I doubt he wouldn't tell him about Hermione. Like you, he knows he'll want to know. They're both stubborn like that."

Somewhere in lengthy time he was standing, his legs started feeling tired and he returned to his seat beside her, burning his hands in his untamed hair.

"This is ridiculous. Why are we fighting?" He sighed, feeling drained.

She smirked. "Because you're making yourself miserable and you don't have to."

It was his turn to groan in frustration with her. "This is Draco Malfoy. As you said, he's everything Slytherin but even that he turned his back to for her. Who am I to know he isn't coming for her for yet another selfless noble cause?"

"You can't. But he isn't the only one Harry. It's been three years. If he's alive, I think you've waited long enough to give him a chance to find her. You've prevented yourself from loving her because of him. I reckon it's about time you stop. Merlin forbid, but if he's dead, then you're just doing it all for nothing."

She said, to be followed by a few minutes of silent thinking and staring at the pale blue wall.

Tired and needing a good drink, he relented, accioing another bottle of fire whiskey.

"What should I do then?" He asked.

She smiled, eyes turning thoughtful, pleased that she was finally getting to him.

"Tell her everything Harry. If she decides to look for him, we can help her. Though it's not as if we aren't doing that already. Zabini's just evasive like that. If Draco's alive, it's either he chose to forget about her and live his life, or he decided she should be happy without him. Draco's not an idiot. Neither are you."

Harry scoffed, but nodded, frowning.

"I guess it's one thing we have in common."

"That, and you're both selflessly foolishly head over heels for the same girl. Lucky witch, this Hermione Granger."

He didn't comment, only smiled.

She smiled back. "And then, you tell her you love her. Promise me Harry. Promise me you'll tell her."

The look in her eyes was full of encouragement, and as she took his hand, he started thinking that perhaps she might be right. And three years was enough to wait for your enemy to take the girl away.

Covering her small hand and squeezing it with his own, Harry Potter replied.

"I will Gin. I'll tell her."

"Alright." She looked relieved, pleased, until a yawn escape her mouth and she rubbed her eyes to dry the sleepy tears away. "Now that that's settled, go make me lunch. I'm starving!"

She smacked his arm, pushing him to leave.

Harry couldn't help but laugh as he went his way to the kitchen. The thing about Ginny, was she always somehow manages to make him feel better every time she visits. It was fortunate he already did the shopping and filled the fridge with food. He only knows how to cook two dishes, and luckily she knows and doesn't complain.

Left alone at last, the witch switched the TV on again, flipping the channel as she realizes she's no longer in the mood for Rush Hour.

She smiled when the movie 'When Harry Met Sally' came into screen. Using magic to dry her tears, she murmured softly so only she could hear.

"That's right. Tell her Harry. And then I too can move on from you."

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 **A/N: Thank you for reading! And same old rules, please no dementors! But you can owl me, or really, just hit the review button and leave me something to read and be inspired with. You would? Oh how wonderful! Have a great day!**


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